


center of attention

by Vault_of_Glass



Series: Kinktober 2018 [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mirror Sex, Multi, Spanking, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: Day 4: Spanking, Mirror sex, Spitroasting





	center of attention

“A late birthday present,” Hancock calls it. The way one might refer to a new pair of heels, or a romantic dinner date, or even a nice sniper rifle, these days.

Instead, an eight foot mirror stands across from their bed at the truck stop. River stares wide-eyed at her reflection, reaching up instinctively to straighten the plaits of her braid. “Where did you find this?”

Hancock rests his chin on her shoulder, meeting her gaze through the mirror with a crooked smirk. “Aw, c’mon, sunshine. You don’t really want me to bore ya with the details, do ya?” His lips graze the nape of her neck, voice rumbling against her skin. “It’s a gift, and it’s yours now. If…” The pause is brief, hardly the span between two heartbeats, but it feels like a lifetime before he continues. “If you want it, anyways.”

River twists around in his arms. He hums in interest as she squirms against him, all arms and elbows until she finally settles with his face held tenderly between her hands. She catches the dark weight of his gaze and smiles slowly up at him. “John. I love it. I don’t have to do my lipstick in a broken compact anymore. It’s perfect.” Her thumb dances across his bottom lip until he bares his teeth and nips at her with a playful growl. “And I’m sure you got to spend lots and lots of caps to get it for me, so it worked out for both of us, didn’t it?”

The smirk returns, bold and shameless, and more than confirmation enough.

“And you say RJ spoils me.”

A dusty chuckle. “‘Cause he does.” He nuzzles his mouth at her throat, fingers weaving gently into the base of her braid. “We both do. Just like seein’ you smile.”

The warmth of his breath rocks a shiver down her spine. Her head falls back to grant him better access, and he’s fast to claim the space with teeth and tongue. “You don’t -  _mmn_ … don’t have to spend money on me to make me smile.”

“Oh, I know it, kitten.” His jagged fingers find the hem of her shirt and slip beneath it, charting trails of heat up her skin. “Lucky for me, I know lots of different ways to make you smile.” He plays his teeth along the shell of her ear until a giggle rises in her throat, and he grins at the sound. “There it is.”

“A good start,” she approves in a breathy voice, as his fingertips inch closer and closer to the hooks of her bra. She flutters her lashes at him with an innocent smile. “Why don’t you show me a few other ways?”

The mottled palm at her back presses her tighter against him, and his lips find hers, parting for the stroke of his tongue and the blunt teeth that follow, grazing lazily across her lip. Hancock always kisses her this way: like he’s making up for every second lost without his mouth on her, a hunger built on months and months of longing, too voracious to contain. He kisses her until she’s flushed and breathless, unlatching the hooks of her bra with a practiced twist of his hand. His palms drop to her hips and turn her back to the mirror, where he meets her low-lidded gaze through its reflection.

River watches her mouth round into a small  _o_ , a dusting of soft pink across her cheekbones. She looks flushed and wild, pupils blown to black against the amber of her irises. Hancock drinks her in with a rumble of appreciation.

“Pretty sight, aren’t you?” He never tears his eyes from her reflection, even as he loosens the band from the end of her braid and teases the long tresses free; even as he sweeps her hair into his fist and sinks his teeth into the back of her shoulder, coaxing her into a sharp gasp. Her head falls back against him, and he murmurs against her skin as he works the buttons of her flannel open. “Need a lifetime for all the things I wanna do to you, kitten.” His mouth worries over a faded mark that stains her throat, the vestige of another night, of his teeth or MacCready’s. The sting feels just as sweet either way.

Her shirt slips down around her shoulders and lands puddled at their feet. Hancock flings her bra aside and lifts his hand to the base of her throat, where his grip curls firm around her neck. For a moment, she simply breathes against his hold, eyes slipping closed at the comfort of that certain grasp.

A squeal of poorly-oiled metal echoes from the hallway, breaking the quiet sound of their breathing, and she peeks an eye back open at the sound of Hancock’s chuckle. “Kid’s got good timing,” he mutters between kisses down her shoulder.

She laughs, low and breathless. Her reflection smiles back at her. “He’s lucky like that.”

MacCready fills the doorway with a bottle in each fist. He pauses and arches a brow at the scene before him: Hancock’s crooked grin, and River nearly naked in his arms, and the mirror that offers such a perfect reflection of them both. She can feel the pass of his eyes down her body, and the slow, slow drag back up. He shakes one of the bottles at her, smirking. “Thirsty?”

River crooks a finger at him, and he crosses the room in three quick strides, abandoning the wine on her coffee table so his hands are free to catch her face between them for an avid kiss. The coarse drag of his shirt across her bare skin makes her squirm, rough against her nipples. “Missed you,” she murmurs into his mouth, and he hums in agreement.

“Missed you too, angel.” He soothes his lips at a fresh hickey on her neck and curls his arm around the small of her back. “How do you like your gift?”

River peers at the mirror over his shoulder, her reflection pressed heart-to-heart between them, and the sight of their hands on her bare skin makes her shiver.

Hancock feels her shudder against him, laughing knowingly under his breath. “Might need some further exploration,” he replies with a devilish smirk.

“Oh yeah?” MacCready rolls his thumb over the stiffened peak of one of her nipples, groaning when she gasps beneath his mouth. His fingers edge past her waistband to grip a handful of her ass. She catches his lip briefly between her teeth, and he grinds her against the hard cock caught behind his pants until they’re both moaning at the contact. “ _Ah_ \- better get started, then. Hate to keep you waiting.”

Hancock takes a step back, and she almost sways without the weight of him to keep her balanced. He catches her by the hand and holds it high above her head, twirling her toward the bed with familiar ease. His eyes rove her body as she follows. “Christ, you’re a fuckin’ picture.”

She pecks the edge of his jaw and falls back against the sheets with a soft laugh, white hair fanning out around her shoulders. “And all yours,” she promises them fondly, basking in the warmth of their undivided attention.

MacCready plants his knees between her legs and buries a hand in her hair, lifting her by the nape of her neck into a kiss. Her fingers dip beneath his shirt to climb the lean muscle of his chest, mapping old scars she’s learned by touch a thousand times before, feeling his heart racing behind his ribs. When he pops the button of her jeans open, she lifts her hips to help him drag them down her legs, breathing giggles at the eager kisses he trails along her thighs.

Hancock shrugs out of his coat, folding it across the back of a tattered loveseat and leaving the tricorn beside it. He tugs the flag from around his hips, and smirks when he catches her watching his hands - those rough, rough hands that touch her with such certainty, that grip and choke and sting but never give her more than she can handle. He drags the familiar feel of his palm down her stomach toward the heat between her thighs. “Is that what you want, kitten? Want my hands on you?”

“Please,” River sighs, arching up into his touch. She grips MacCready by the hand and curls their fingers together, planting kisses along his knuckles. “Please, I need you both.”

“Sweet girl,” Hancock praises, and the bed dips as he settles on his knees beside them. He traces rough fingertips around MacCready’s hip and squeezes the rigid shape of his cock through his pants. MacCready groans and bucks into his touch, eyelids fluttering low over his eyes. Her body warms at the sound, craving the bliss that always follows. “Mmn, he’s dying for you, kitten. Why don’t you help him out a little with that pretty mouth of yours?”

River slinks forward on her knees, working the button of his pants open with her teeth. He pets her hair with calloused fingers as her lips follow the tawny hair that trails a line between his hips. His cock fills her grip when she frees him, hard and hot and heavy, and he strangles out a deep noise of relief. Her tongue charts the length of his cock from base to tip while his fingers clench in her hair.

She feels Hancock shifting behind her, and MacCready loosens his grip just as he grabs her by the hips and hauls her legs across his lap. Scarred hands admire the curves of her ass, slipping fingertips down over the slick arousal of her sex, curling teasing shapes when she gasps and pushes back against him. His hand passes down the slope of her thighs with painstaking slowness, as if to claim every last inch of her skin with his touch.

River wraps her hand around the base of MacCready’s cock and guides him between her lips, taking him over her tongue to the back of her throat and then a little deeper. His breath catches behind his teeth, hips flexing instinctively after the heat of her mouth.

“Good girl,” Hancock approves behind her, his voice pitched low and raspy.

She releases MacCready with a breathy sigh, kissing the wet, swollen head of his cock. Her tongue flicks along the narrow slit there, and he whines in response. She’s planting kisses down the length of him when Hancock’s hand lifts from her ass and comes back down in a swift, hard arc. She yelps as the sting blooms hot beneath her skin and sinks lower, leaving faint tingles of warmth between her thighs. Hancock gives her only a few moments to compose herself before he swats her again with the flat of his palm, and her body recoils with a shuddering moan, tensing against the reeds of pain that sear across her ass.

MacCready gathers her hair in his hands, watching the pleasure cross her face with dreamy eyes. She plants messy kisses over his hip bones, his cock twitching between her fingers, against her lips when she drags her mouth down to the base.

Hancock holds her steady in an iron grip and spanks her again, hard enough to bring the prickle of tears to her eyes. She cries out, seizing up as the pain slowly recedes into a pale, dull ache. His fingers hunt languidly up her thighs and he growls when her arousal slicks his touch. “So wet for us already, kitten,” he teases in a thick voice.

The fingers in her hair soothe tenderly along her scalp, a gentle counterpoint to the pain radiating from each strike Hancock lands across her ass. She clings to MacCready with a breathless sob, her knees twisting in the sheets, every slap of Hancock’s hand biting sharper and hotter than the last.

“Please!” And she doesn’t know quite what she’s begging for, but the plea still tumbles out between hushed whimpers. “ _Please, please, please_  -”

“Please what, sunshine?” Hancock eases his touch into a slow, soft stroke that melts the lingering pain into dull pleasure. A pulse of heat trickles from his touch to her aching cunt, and she feels so devastatingly _empty_. The most she can get out is a throaty sigh before he whistles low behind her, squeezing at the glowing curves of her ass. “You look so fuckin’ good with my handprints all over you.” He kisses her skin, and even that brief touch stings against her tender flesh.

River glances at the mirror with teary eyes and drinks in the sight of their reflections - her body arched between them, Hancock’s hands teasing over the pink marks that still burn across her ass and MacCready’s cock lurching against her fingers for attention. There’s a gravity to how they fit together, magnetism in their hands and hearts and breath that calls to her in perfect clarity: _this is where you belong._

Hancock catches her eyes and his lips curl up into a smirk, all teeth and dark temptation. He leans over her to graze his mouth at the back of her ear. “See what I mean?”

She nods, and barely manages to tear her gaze away from their reflection. MacCready rests back on his elbows, watching her with patient fascination, playing with the soft strands of her hair.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he breathes, smiling when a blush lifts to her cheeks.

She smiles back. “Sweet-talker.” His cock is still hard in her grip, and she sinks her mouth down around him in earnest, glancing up through her lashes as his head falls back. His adam’s apple works around a hard swallow, dragging empty air in through his teeth. Her lips and hands fall into familiar rhythms as she draws him deeper over her tongue.

He rakes his teeth across his lip and growls out a guttural sound. “ _Fuck_ , beautiful-!”

Hancock rolls his fingertips along the slick that wells between her thighs and pushes in to the first knuckle with one fluid motion. Her moan throbs around MacCready’s cock, back arching at the sweet intrusion. Her nerves sing in relief, that aching emptiness only  _barely_ fulfilled, and yet already she can feel the distant promise of release.

His fingers fuck deeper with the wet sound of flesh around flesh. “Christ, you’re wet,” he groans, his voice almost pained. She feels his hips slot into place behind her, then the head of his cock prodding between her thighs, and it feels like the whole world coming together when he finally drives into her. She sobs and shakes and MacCready bites out a curse at the relief that twists in her expression.

Hancock takes her slowly, pushing in to the hilt and holding there, so that she feels the full weight of him with every frantic beat of her heart. Blunt nails dig into her hip and the small of her back, pinning them tight together. “Fuck, that’s good,” he gasps, and languidly withdraws. She can feel herself gripping tight around him as he does, and they both moan at the sensation. He rocks a deep, easy pace, setting his teeth to the back of her shoulder and rasping filthy gravel whispers at her ear as he fucks her. “You take me so well,” he praises in a wrecked voice. “Feel so fuckin’ good around me. Could watch you like this all day.”

MacCready whimpers and edges deeper into her mouth, cock throbbing at the feel of her tongue and the rumble of Hancock’s voice behind her. The ghoul fixes a mottled hand into her hair and holds her steady as MacCready fucks her mouth.

“Want you between us when we fill you,” Hancock pants, and thrusts hard against her, forcing MacCready further down her throat. He grits a curse out through his teeth, and MacCready gasps above her, and between them River feels utterly weightless, like she can take and take and take and never be sated.

Hancock drops a hand around her waist, ghosting his fingers over the silky folds where she parts around his cock and finding the bead of her clit between them. Her body jerks at that first touch, too rough, too much, and he eases off into feather-light strokes of his fingertips until she melts against him with a desperate moan. Each pass of his fingers seems to tighten at the knot of building pressure, setting a tremble to her thighs as he works her closer.

When she takes him past her throat and swallows, MacCready whines her name and moves his hips in shallow, determined thrusts. She steadies herself with a hand against his hip, feeling the muscles tighten and shift beneath his skin. “Gonna come, beautiful,” he gasps, and she teases her tongue along the length of his cock until she feels him throb and burst between her lips. The salt-bitter taste of him fills her mouth as he comes with a shuddering groan, hips bucking when she swallows him down. He shivers at the heat and suction, at her lips and tongue working meticulously over his cock until he has to pull away, whimpering and oversensitive.

Hancock rumbles in approval, gripping her by the chin and turning her head to kiss her. His tongue chases the lingering taste on her tongue when she opens to him. His fingers never let up at her clit, hips snapping rougher and faster against her ass as she cries out and begs him for more.

Still panting, MacCready wraps a hand firmly around her throat and holds her gaze, savoring each moan that Hancock fucks out of her. His eyes are dark with pupil and heartbreakingly tender as he rolls his thumb across her bottom lip. “River,” he says, soft and wanting. “Let me see you come.”

The fullness, and the aching, and the grip around her throat compound and wring like liquid fire through her nerves. Hancock muffles a wounded groan against her shoulder, his hand still working urgently between her thighs, and the next rough thrust is all it takes to send her careening over that edge. Her eyes screw shut into deep, endless black as the pressure builds and breaks and pulls her under with all the force of a riptide - overpowering, and everywhere weightless.

“Fuck-!” At the feel of her coming around him, Hancock digs his fingers into her hips and comes with a feral snarl. She feels the heat and slickness when he fills her, moaning in delight and shaking as the heady bliss recedes, leaving her limp and weak across the sheets. His hips stutter out a few last lazy thrusts before he pulls out, cursing under his breath. He nudges her thighs apart and purrs in satisfaction at the sight of his cum welling between her swollen folds. “Perfect,” he sighs, soothing his hand over a bright pink mark that still glows on her ass.

River rolls gingerly onto her back, and MacCready cradles her head in his lap as they catch their breath. With little aftershocks of bliss still tingling between her legs, she reaches for Hancock and draws him into her arms, where she can feel the frenzied beat of his heart against her own. He leans up to kiss her, soft and slow, and when he pulls away his eyes warm at the placid smile on her face.

Her smile lingers as they dress her with gentle hands, as MacCready curls sleepy limbs around her; as Hancock retrieves the bottles from the coffee table and pours her a well-deserved glass; as she sips slowly from her wine and aches in all the most delicious ways and hopes they’ll always work so hard to keep her smiling.


End file.
